Vocal Point: Trip to Elderville really gets you thinking
Several weeks ago friends and family pictured my husband and I strolling along a California beach, sinking our tootsies into the warm sand and basking in the sun. Instead, we were smack dab in the middle of Elderville.
Although I knew the elderly lived among us, I didn’t realize my in-laws were members of this elite group until that crisp morning in the coastal city of Ventura, Calif., when the terms “elderly,” “care services” and “now what?” entered my vocabulary.
Elderville is a relatively unassuming spot located in a nondescript metropolis stuffed with endless options such as in-home care, out-of-home care, homebound care, assisted care, live-in care, residential care and independent care.
There are caregivers, caretakers, care holders, care specialists, long-term care and short-term care. In short, there’s a lot of care to be had in Elderville, and we stood at its gates contemplating how to fit the square ‘care-package’ peg into the round ‘aging-parent’ hole.
My in-laws were active people and sole proprietors of a hydraulic repair business for 30 years. Now in their 80s they’ve acquiesced to the solitude their golden years have brought, steeped in forgetfulness, suspicion and frail bones that have stolen their dreams of travel.
The first order of business was re-establishing a connection. Many in our circumstance know absence and distance manifest mistrust, particularly with the elderly. The familial roots were there, but somehow we had to renew them.
We took drives, stopped for meals and admired their uniqueness and efforts to stay cognizant. Small talk soon begot a wealth of memories, and trust eased back into the relationship. We found ourselves wishing the many dreams of travel had come true for them.
Then we got down to the business of aging as we surveyed the yard and house. We mentally checked “dire need of repair.”
The interior of the house is a byproduct of the Depression era when a generation of pack rats was born. These feisty little critters were taught to hang on to every tidbit “just in case,” and my in-laws learned this lesson well. We maneuvered around the mounds of items that the world classifies as junk but they view as treasures and memories and lost dreams. We mentally checked “get bulldozer.”
Then we confronted the real business of aging as we evaluated their health and ability to take care of daily needs. The most difficult part of growing old is the relinquishing of freedoms as the body and mind are no longer in sync. We checked “care services” on our mental list.
As we prepared to leave, heirlooms were brought from closets with instructions to deliver them to the grandkids. During the exchange we spotted a flicker of recognition that they, too, know this business of aging is a cantankerous but necessary one.
The business of aging is a daunting task and a universal dilemma. According to a 2005 census, 12.5 percent of Spokane’s residents are age 65 and over. That’s approximately 55,000 elderly folk who call Spokane home. Friends with whom we’ve discussed our dilemma nod their heads in acknowledgement for they too have stood at Elderville’s gates and tallied up the work, the cost, the emotional decision-making process while heaving weary sighs.
Several weeks have passed since our return, and the task of deciphering Elderville remains overwhelming and confusing. Despite the sharp raps against the desk to our APGS (Aging Parent Guidance System), the navigational arrow is stuck and we remain gridlocked on the superhighway of elder care.
We’ve entered the “now what?” part of the puzzle. We worry about what each day brings for them. We think about what needs to be done, recall the mounds of memorabilia aching to be sifted through and realize no surefire solution is on the horizon.
Then, a glimmer of hope emerges. “I’m cleaning out the closets,” my mother-in-law recently said over the phone. “No need to hang on to this stuff anymore.”
The gate into Elderville is swinging wide open and we’re walking into its bright blaring light with hope.